Rebellion

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THE BRICK SAILED through the air, spinning end over end. It was almost graceful... until it smashed through the storefront. On the street outside, a shout went up as three men shoved their way to the front of the crowd, kicked out the remains of the window and stepped through the frame, raising their fists in triumph. There was another cheer, and one of them clambered onto the counter to wrench a television screen off the wall.

The pavements were littered with glass: broken windows, broken bottles, broken everything. People had gathered on the road in the fading light; they stood in knots around the shattered shops, some clutching boxes tightly to themselves, some staring blankly around them as though unsure how they had come to be there. A burning bin smouldered, filling the air with acrid smoke as it melted into the pavement. Distant sirens sounded, but never seemed to get any closer. The mob rampaged up and down the road, tearing boards from windows and cheering its own triumphs as it went.

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